


Don't Threaten Me With Love, Baby

by Deastar



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-03
Updated: 2011-04-03
Packaged: 2017-10-17 13:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>“Don’t enjoy this too much,” I told Damon’s unconscious body as I slid down the bed to lie by his side, curving my body around his, willing it to absorb the heat.</i> Set sometime late Season 1.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Threaten Me With Love, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this during the most marvelous storm, and I told myself, “I’ll finish it when the next storm comes!” At which point, it _never stormed again._ D:

The rain sounded like whispers as it ran down the windows and dripped off of boarding house’s corners and eaves. I was soaking, and Stefan was, too – it’s not easy to get from the car to the house quickly with dead weight in your arms, and Stefan was far from his usual strength.

“How is he?” Stefan asked, standing in the doorway – he’d gone around closing all the windows while I settled Damon in the bed.

“Cold. Really cold,” I said, resting a hand on the plane of Damon’s cheek.

I’d put Damon in Stefan’s bed because, honestly… I just had no idea where Damon’s actual room was – whenever I saw him sleep, it was here.

Stefan nodded – more to have something to do, I think, than because it meant anything. “I’m going to go see what I can…”

“Steal?” I said, quirking my lips. I wasn’t sure why the local hospital’s blood bank still had such flimsy security, but I was pretty sure it was safe to blame Damon.

Stefan returned my shadow of a smile. “Yes.”

He turned to go, and I turned back to Damon, paler even than usual, the skin of his eyelids thin and purple.

“Stefan,” I said quietly, catching him at the door, where he turned back, looking a question at me.

“I might…”

“Thank you,” Stefan said. I knew he would never have asked – probably never even thought of asking. Usually, I wouldn’t have offered. But brothers are important. Stefan and I could always agree on that.

I was sitting up against the headboard with Damon’s head in my lap, stroking through his hair every now and then, and listening to the storm outside. It wasn’t night, but it was dark, and the little light that snuck through the dense clouds gave everything a beautiful but strange blue glow.

Inside Stefan’s room, I could hear branches scraping against the boarding house windows in the wind – the thunder was nearly constant now, sometimes closer and sometimes farther, but always a rumble in the back of my head.

I laid my hand on Damon’s face again, but it was just as cold as before – Stefan was cold sometimes, I was used to waking up to that, when he hadn’t had any blood or caffeine for hours, but not like this. And not Damon.

 _Stefan won’t be back for at least another twenty minutes_ , I thought. Damon’s forehead leached all the warmth out of the palm of my hand.

I sighed.

“Don’t enjoy this too much,” I told Damon’s unconscious body as I slid down the bed to lie by his side, curving my body around his, willing it to absorb the heat.

“And I’m keeping my clothes on,” I muttered to no one.

I was so used to the steady low roll of the thunder that when lighting flashed just outside Stefan’s window and the whole room shook with a sudden thunderclap, my heart jumped, and I muffled an unwomanly yelp in Damon’s shoulder. It hadn’t been a good day for my nerves anyway, I thought wryly, checking Damon’s temperature again.

He seemed a little better, although maybe that was wishful thinking.

We were both in soggy clothes, drenched by the rain. I knew that couldn’t be helping, but there was no way I was taking off my clothes or Damon’s – let alone both, god forbid – unless there was no other way to save his… unlife… and I was pretty sure we were a long way from that point.

“What about if I asked _really_ nicely?”

“Oh my god—Damon!” I put a hand over my heart, willing my pulse to slow down—you’d think by now I’d be used to lifeless bodies talking back to me, but Damon had made me jump. Propping myself up on an elbow, I touched his face again, checking—but he was still as cold as before.

“How… how do you feel?”

“Do you often think about taking my clothes off?” Damon asked, narrowing his eyes at me speculatively, and I blushed when I realized I must have been saying all that out loud.

“You’re very weak, Damon,” I said, giving him a stern look. “I’m not sure you should be talking.”

“You’re making that up,” he said dismissively, waving a hand limply in my direction.

Damon stared up at the ceiling, crossing his ankles and looking contemplative.

“So I’m lying barely-conscious in my insufferable brother’s bed with his surprisingly sufferable girlfriend cuddling me, and both of us are soaking wet. I’m guessing that either means that Mystic Falls just had the awesomest wet t-shirt contest of all time, or I saved your life again,” Damon said, and the smile fell off my face, remembering, feeling scared all over again, and powerless—

“Not mine,” I said softly. “Jeremy’s.”

“Oh.” Damon’s focus suddenly shifted over to me, and it felt like a spotlight, uncomfortable and too intense. That was Damon, though – he was always like that. You learned to get along with it, or like Stefan, you let it drive you crazy.

“I should have known,” Damon said matter-of-factly. “You can take care of yourself.”

“Yeah,” I said, fighting for a little smile, but it flickered away as fast as the lightning slicing the storm open outside the windows.

“You almost died,” I whispered. “And Jeremy—if it had been Jeremy, he—he would have, and it would have been my fault—”

 _Shit, shit_ , I thought, scraping the back of my hand over my cheeks, angry with myself for breaking down when everything was going to be fine, when Jeremy was fine, I _knew_ that—

Damon didn’t say anything, but I felt a hand between my shoulder blades, not pushing, just inviting. I let him guide me down to put my head on his shoulder again – more for my comfort this time than for his.

“What happened to me?” he asked, tilting his head.

“You were… crushed,” I explained, trying not to think about it, but the memories were fresh and sharp. “You didn’t even—we weren’t sure it was you, at first—” _Weren’t even sure it was a person,_ I thought, and shuddered, “—and… you took so long to heal…”

Damon’s hand was still there on my back – I could feel it, splayed out; I could feel each finger. I could feel the stripes of muscle rounding out his shoulder, and underneath my own hand, resting on his chest, I could feel the spot where the wings of his rib cage parted, leaving nothing but skin to protect all the fragile things inside.

There was another low crackle of thunder, somewhere far away. The rain wasn’t dying down; it had been pouring since—at least since I’d gotten Jeremy’s text, scared and confused, barely coherent.

The windows were bleary with raindrops, and there was no light except the lamp by the bed – it was one of those weird times where you feel like you’re alone in the whole world.

“You’re still cold,” I said.

“I’d think you’d be used to that.” It wasn’t _quite_ a leer, the look Damon gave me, but it was close enough that I knew what he meant. I’d thought the same thing, earlier.

I reached up, with the hand that I’d laid on his chest, and cupped the sharp cut of his jaw. My wrist was a breath away from his mouth.

“Go ahead,” I told him, softly. “It’s okay.”

 _That_ surprised him, but he covered it up fast.

“What is this, the hero’s reward?” Damon asked, looking amused. “Because if so, I’m _very_ disappointed.”

I pulled back a little, confused.

“I was hoping for the _traditional_ hero’s reward,” he continued, and when I shook my head, confused, he sighed and rolled his eyes. “A kiss from the fair maiden? Isn’t that the standard reward for vanquishing the giant?”

I huffed out a breath and took my wrist back.

“Actually,” I informed him, “ _Stefan_ vanquished the giant. You were already out of commission by then. And anyway, you didn’t rescue _me_ , so if you want a kiss from Jeremy, you just go right ahead and ask him.”

Damon lifted an intrigued eyebrow and gazed into the distance, visibly plotting.

I sighed.

“Please don’t sexually harass my traumatized little brother just to prove a point.”

“I’ll have you know that’s something of a specialty of mine, thank you very much,” Damon said, putting on aggrieved offense like his old familiar leather jacket.

I muttered, “I really didn’t need to hear that,” and Damon just laughed a little.

We fell into silence again. After what I’d seen, I couldn’t help it, the direction my mind started to drift – _That knob of bone against my foot, that’s his ankle; that’s his knee against my knee, whole, safe; those are his ribs under my finger – fragile, smooth_.

“It was bad, wasn’t it,” Damon said– it wasn’t a question. When his right hand came up to tangle with my left, I realized I had been tracing his ribs with my finger.

“Stefan said he’d never seen a vampire come back from something so bad without blood, or magic,” I whispered. “He was out of his mind. He ripped those other vampires apart like…”

There was something suddenly… _open_ on Damon’s face, like a window blown in by a storm.

“They’d—they’d hurt you,” he said fast, like he was pushing away something he wanted too much, and I didn’t understand for a minute, but then—

 _Oh._

“They’d hurt _you_ ,” I said gently. “I was fine.”

Damon was too weak to use vampire speed, but still, it happened so fast – like the blink of an eye, his lips were touching mine, not seductive, not practiced, but desperate. I knew it wasn’t for me – I knew it was more to hide his face, hide that broken-open look, than out of desire.

 _Because he’s Damon,_ I thought, sliding a hand up to stroke his hair back from his face, _because he can’t just put his hands over his face like a normal person. Because letting me see him_ feel, _letting me see him_ want _something, would be—_

“Elena! I brought the—”

I pulled away from Damon, brushing my hand down his cheek as I turned toward the door.

“Hi, Stefan,” I said.

He looked like a drowned cat, dripping rainwater on the floor, but he also looked more curious than angry, considering he’d just walked in on his brother kissing his girlfriend.

“Oh, Stefan!” Damon said brightly, wiggling his fingers in a tiny wave, and wearing one of his most obnoxiously self-satisfied looks. “I was just claiming my… traditional hero’s reward… from Elena.” He managed to soak that sentence with more innuendo than I would have thought possible. I was almost impressed.

Stefan tilted his head sideways – reminding me of a cat more than ever – and said calmly. “Since I’m the one who defeated the evildoers, I’m pretty sure that _I’m_ the one who gets the hero’s reward,” he mused, walking slowly toward the bed.

Damon held up his hands, curling his mouth in a smirk.

“You two go to town, brother. I love the smell of voyeurism in the morning.”

“Actually,” Stefan replied, “Elena didn’t need any rescuing.”

Damon’s brow furrowed. “Then what—”

With catlike grace, Stefan knelt over Damon’s body on the bed and arched down to kiss him, raindrops spattering down on the sheets from his hair and his clothes, some rivulets trickling down the planes of his face to trace tracks on Damon’s cheeks. Stefan’s hands were dancing some secret set of steps over Damon’s body – it wasn’t much different from the ones my fingers had followed earlier: making an account, trying to wring some kind of reassurance out of the whole, graceful lines of his limbs and his skin.

Damon didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away – in fact, he—

 _They’ve done this before_ , I thought, not sure how I knew, just certain somehow. Probably that should have freaked me out. In all honesty, I found it strangely comforting.

Still kneeling over Damon’s body, Stefan broke the kiss just far enough to rest his forehead against Damon’s. He was breathing hard, and his hands were still nervously tracing the ghosts of Damon’s injuries.

“You’re dripping on me,” said Damon, obviously trying to sound bored and annoyed, and just as obviously kind of wrecked by what had just happened.

“Oh,” Stefan said, looking guilty and pulling away. “I shouldn’t have—you’re still recovering—”

“Oh, please.” Damon rolled his eyes and yanked Stefan back down to the bed by the front of his shirt. “It’s obvious that you two need to reassure yourselves that I’m back to my usual peachy keen self, and if you have to do it by groping me, who am I to object?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but actually, that sounded pretty accurate.

Stefan obeyed Damon’s tugging hand and settled himself on Damon’s other side – his eyes caught mine, and he smiled, a little warily.

“Hi,” I said, as gently as I could, catching his free hand and pulling it down with mine to rest on Damon’s chest.

Stefan smiled back, for real this time. “Hi,” he said.

Outside, the storm sounded tired – the wind still howled past the house, throwing wet handfuls of raindrops against the windows, but the thunder was dying down to a distant roar, and the velvet gray of the sky was soft and dark without any sharp flashes of lightning.

Stefan squeezed my hand, then let go, reaching up to graze the sharp lines of Damon’s face with his fingertips. “You’re… still cold,” he said, sounding worried.

“Well, yeah.” Damon rolled his eyes – but I could see him lean into Stefan’s hand, so lightly that it was barely perceptible. “And unless you have some AB neg in that stylish satchel of yours—”

“I do, actually,” replied Stefan, absently, “but I thought Elena—”

He broke off, blushing, and his eyes were soft with guilt.

“I—I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No, it’s okay,” I told Stefan, resting my hand comfortably on his thigh – the three of us were tangled like an adults-only game of Twister, Stefan’s right leg still draped across Damon’s hips, Damon’s left arm still curled along my spine, my own left arm draped across Damon’s torso to reach Stefan’s thigh. Under my hand, Stefan’s jeans were soaked through, clinging tight to the lines of his muscle.

Wryly, I told Stefan, “I offered. But Damon was more interested in trying to… either kiss me, or get on my nerves. I’m not actually sure which.”

“Both,” Damon said. “Duh.”

His right hand was lying on the bed next to Stefan’s knee, and I could see how the back of his thumb was pressed casually against the outer seam of Stefan’s jeans – it would have looked accidental, except for the way his knuckle was white where it pushed against the cloth.

Stefan looked a little confused, but he just said, “Oh. Do you want—should I get the blood bags?”

He pushed himself up on his elbow, preparing to crawl off the bed to grab the satchel he’d left on the floor, but Damon’s hand shot up to catch his arm, holding him still.

“Don’t—”

Damon cut himself off quickly, but Stefan and I shared a look.

“Okay,” Stefan said softly. “Okay.”

He put a hand down on the bed and slowly eased himself back down until he was mirroring my position on the other side. I could see him matching my train of thought from earlier, cataloguing each place where Damon’s body, whole and right, touched his own body, reassuring.

The rain on the roof was slower, now, almost soothing – a steady rhythm, like a heartbeat. I thought about offering again, but Damon didn’t seem to be getting any worse, and there was something about that moment – the soft grey light outside, the three of us quiet together, comfortable in a way that I wanted to hold on to for as long as I could, even though I knew it wouldn’t last – that made me want to just keep still, and not move until the rain died down.

Reaching down with my free hand, I grabbed the blanket and tugged it up over us, until at least our legs were haphazardly covered.

“I love a good sleepover,” Damon mumbled without opening his eyes.

Stefan and I both ignored him.

I’d promised myself I wasn’t going to fall asleep like that, but the soft brushstrokes of the rain sweeping over the house were like a lullaby, and I found my eyes drifting shut. Before I would let myself go, though, I reached out one last time to remind myself, to trace the bowed architecture of Damon’s fragile ribs. As my fingertips drew a sweeping line toward his heart, my hand brushed Stefan’s hand, sketching the same line from the other side, and our fingers tangled together.

Without opening my eyes, I laced my fingers between Stefan’s until our hands were locked together over Damon’s heart.

“I should… get up,” Stefan said reluctantly. “Deal with the blood bags.”

“In a minute,” I whispered, yawning, and Stefan leaned over to press a kiss onto our entwined hands.

“In a minute,” he promised, and he stayed until, despite my best intentions, I let the rain pull me down into sleep.


End file.
